“That ain’t a state of things to make you low, Mr. Venus.”

“ Mr. Wegg, I know it ain’t. Mr. Wegg, not to name myself as a workman without an equal, I’ve gone on improving myself in my knowledge of anatomy, till both by sight and by name I’m perfect. Mr. Wegg, if you was brought here loose in a bag to be articulated, I’d name your smallest bones blindfold equally with your largest, as fast as I could pick ’em out, and I’d sort ’em all, and sort your wertebrae, in a manner that would equally surprise and charm you.”

“Well,” remarks Silas (though not quite so readily as last time), “ that ain’t a state of things to be low about.⁠—Not for you to be low about, leastways.”